The Plus Doyle Series - 1. Parting Gifts
by Fiona
Summary: This is bacically a rewrite of the episode Parting Gifts from season1 except in this time line Doyle survived his encounter with the Beacon.


Title: The Plus Doyle Series – 1. Parting Gifts

Author: Fiona ([bu3@btinternet.com][1])

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: These people belong to Joss Whedon's twisted little mind. They are not mine. (But if he wants to get rid of Doyle can I have him? Please?)

Authors Notes: This is a rewritten version of Parting Gifts in which Doyle has survived. I swear that my next story _will be original, but it may take some time due to impending coursework deadlines. Anyone who wants to use this story on another site please let me know_

Parting Gifts

"Why do you try our patience?" 

The Marble hall of the Oracles seemed to cool by several degrees as the Brother scowled at Angel. Angel stood his ground.

"Doyle is my friend and my sole contact to the Powers That Be, so I ask again, will Doyle live?" he asked more forcefully.

The Sister looked up from the watch Angel had presented her as a gift. "What does it matter? He is the Promised One of the Lister demon legend and he has atoned. Why do you come before us?"

"He is my friend," answered Angel simply.

"If that is so then so shall it ever be," responded the Sister sympathetically. "He shall remain your friend whether he is or ceases to be."

"But it is of no consequence," said the Brother, as unfeeling as always towards the plight of "lesser beings". He and Sister exchanged subtle glances to confirm to each other that they were not about to reveal more information.

"The war rages on." The Sister turned and started to walk towards the archway to infinity that was at the back of the room.

The Brother could not resist adding his own parting shot at Angel. "Do not come to us again on so self serving a matter." He raised his arm and both he and Sister disappeared in a flash of light.

Barney was running scared. He took a tight turn into an alley and hid behind some refuse. He hoped that he had lost him. Carefully looking around the corner he was dismayed to see the black-clad figure on the motorcycle round the corner and head straight for him. Barney turned and sprinted down the alley hoping fervently that the trash that was strewn across the alley would slow down his pursuer.

Cordelia sat in a high backed leather chair, watching. She had been watching for quite some time, ever since she had come in that morning and found Angel asleep in that very same chair that she now sat in. She turned her head slightly to look at her charge. He looked so small and helpless, lying still on the bed. She leant over and smoothed his hair away from his bandaged covered face.

She had never noticed how soft his hair was, nor how fine. She had always been too busy calling it scruffy when he had been out drinking all night and it had poked up at an angle. Now she could not stop stroking it as she watched over him.

He seemed to stir slightly, giving her hope that he was all better now. That he would sit up, tarring the bandages from his battered face, and smile at her. That hope lasted as long as his brief movement. She leant back in her chair and cupped her chin in the palm of her hand. When he woke up, what would she do? She had thought long and hard over the matter, but she was still no closer to the solution to her problem. 

Before he had leaped, Doyle had shown her something that had cost him dearly. His demon half. The part of him that he had kept hidden for so long because he thought that she would reject him outright over it. She had told him before, moments before, that she did not care. That she already worked for a vampire and by implication how much different would dating a demon be. 

But knowing it in her head and knowing it in her heart were two different things. 

Before he had jumped he had told her that they would never know if his was a face she could love. The problem was that it was not a human face. It had been a face covered in spikes with glowing red eyes. And she had been lost for words. Her mind had been empty; unable to even scrape together the phrase _I don't care, I love you. And she regretted it._

He started to cough again. Cordelia rose and took the glass of water from the nightstand. She added one of the packets that the doctor had left them to it, carefully mixing them together. She lifted his head and placed the glass to his lips. He managed to swallow some, the rest running uselessly down the side of his mouth. His eyes fluttered open.

"Delia?" he asked, his voice a dry whisper.

"Shh. You need your rest." Cordelia placed the glass back on the nightstand. She then took his hand in hers, lightly clasping the bandaged covered appendage so that she did not hurt him further.

"Did…did I stop it? Did the Listers get away?"

"You saved us all." 

Doyle sighed contentedly. His eyes fluttered shut again and as he exhaled she could barely make out the words "I love you, Princess."

"I…I…" Cordelia tried to say _I love you too Doyle, but the words would not come._

Angel looked up from his desk as Cordelia exited from the stairwell leading to his apartment. "How is he?"

Cordelia wrapped her arms around her waist. "Better. He recognised me this time. I think he was trying to help me give him his painkillers this time, but it's hard to tell. He still spilt the water everywhere." She moved to stare out of Angel's window, the only part of the office that had sunlight streaming in. She rubbed her arms, trying to dispel the chill that had filled her from downstairs. She turned back to Angel. "Will he ever get better? I mean, I don't want the last memory I have of Doyle with his mind working to be when he… he…"

Angel decided to stop her descending into that spiral of grief. "Cordelia, get out."

"What?" Cordelia seemed mildly surprised that Angel could be so rude.

Angel realising his mistake tried to recover. "I mean of the office. Take the day off. Go and live your life a little bit. I can look after Doyle for the rest of the day as well as run the office." Cordelia moved back into the shadows, a steely glint appearing him her eyes.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing Angel."

Angel was surprised. He thought that what he was doing was letting Cordelia relax a little. "What am I doing?" he asked, interested in hearing Cordelia's analysis of what he was doing. Although she had a sharp tongue, she often was insightful of people and their motives.

"You're trying to push me away, close yourself off."

Angel realised that she was right, but telling her that would mean that she would never leave, and he could see that she needed to be reminded of life outside the office. He tried to put up a defence. "That's not what I…"

Cordelia cut him off straight away recognising his clumsy attempt to deflect her. "Well I've got news for you broody boy, Doyle almost died to save your ass and we are both worried about him. Now I may not be an expert but normal people cope with crisis like this by working together. I'm not going anywhere, so get used to it. I'm staying right here." The alarm on her digital watch sounded. She jumped and looked at it as if to confirm that indeed it had sounded. She moved out of his office. "Oops! Got to go. Commercial audition. If it wasn't a national I'd blow it off." She seemed genuinely apologetic about it.

"If you don't feel up to it then don't go." Angel was worried, as her personality had again done a one-eighty back to prom queen mode. "Stay here," he offered.

"Reverse psychology, very cute, don't worry. I'm going." Cordelia seemed to have forgotten the beginning of the conversation again. She picked up her bag and headed for the door. "But don't get any ideas, I'm coming back," she said over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob.

"Right." Angel was still trying to catch up with Cordelia's change of heart. Before opening the door she flashed him a smile that seemed to say, _don't worry, I'll come back soon, I promise. She pulled the door and was almost knocked off her feet by a short, ruddy complexioned demon with small vestigial horns, two on either side of his forehead. She let out a small scream before recovering from her shock._

The demon seemed as shocked as she was. "You scared the heck out of me!"

Cordelia was incredulous. "I scared you? Look in a mirror lately?"

The demon was a bit put off by that, but recovered quickly. "Every chance I get!" He caught sight of Angel standing further back in the office and made a beeline for him. "You're him, right? You're the guy, the…the…. The vampire with a soul?"

Angel decided the best way to cope with this over zealous demon was to play it deadpan. "I'm Angel."

Despite this the demon seemed to get more excited. "You gotta help me! Please! I mean that's what you do right? You help the helpless? You protect the what'd you call them…the helpless."

"Something like that."

Cordelia was still hovering in the doorway. "Do you want me to stay?"

It took Angel a moment to remember at what stage the argument over her leaving had reached. "It's okay."

The demon turned to face Cordelia. "Break a leg."

Cordelia was a bit surprised. She hadn't mentioned her audition while he was in the office. "Excuse me?"

The demon screwed his face up into a very bizarre look that she supposed was an attempt to look comforting. "I'm sensing a little performance anxiety here. Little trick, picture everyone…"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. _Yet another amateur that thinks no one has ever heard that piece of advice before. "In their underwear," she finished for the demon. _

To her surprise the demon blinked a few times in shock. "I was going to say dead, but if the underwear thing works for you…" Cordelia beat a hasty retreat before the demon's weirdness could rub off on her.

Angel led the demon into his office. He sat behind his desk and steeped his fingers. "So…what's the problem?"

The demon continued to pace back and forth across the office floor. "Call me Barney." He seemed to have some sort of internal struggle, then turned and leant against the back of the chair facing Angel. "First off you should know right away before there's any misunderstanding. I'm a demon."

Angel tried to fathom whether this new client was dense or whether he thought Angel so. The horns were an obvious give away that this new client wasn't exactly human. He decided to play it safe. "I appreciate your candour." He pitched his voice carefully so in could be interpreted many ways.

"Secondly, I just realised that it's three forty-five in the afternoon. If you're a vampire why aren't you in your coffin?" The demon seemed genuinely confused.

Angel was dismayed. "Coffin. I hate that stereotype." Bad rumours about vampire habits were one of the few things that really ticked him off. "You're a demon and you don't know anything about vampires?" he asked carefully.

"Only what I learned from TV."

"Vampires don't sleep in coffins. It's a misconception made popular by hack," he spat out the word vehemently, "writers and ignorant media." He started to storm around the office gesticulating wildly. "In fact we can and do more around during the day, as long as we avoid direct sunlight. Got it?" The thunderclouds behind Angel were growing fiercer.

"Got it," said the demon, suitably cowed by one very pissed vampire. "Sorry, I didn't want to push any sore spots."

Angel reigned in his temper. "Sorry, I just having problems in my life at the minute."

The demon, Barney, shrugged. "Hey, I can understand you getting ticked off about people jumping to conclusions about yourself. Anyway…" The demon sat in the chair opposite Angel and looked at him hopefully, as if Angel was supposed to do something.

Angel groped through his memory for what he was supposed to be doing. "So what can I do for you Barney?"

The motorcyclist pulled in to the back alley in Korea-town and shut down his bike's engine. He looked to right and left before carefully removing his helmet. He placed it carefully on the back of the bike before moving to the black bag fastened on the back. He searched through the stakes and knives it held until his fingers closed on a small crossbow, already loaded with a wooden bolt. 

The hunter crossed the road to the apartment building that his source had told him about. He bent down to examine the slime on the corner, the same slime trail that the demon had been secreting for a while now. He stood up and entered the building.

Angel sat down behind his desk. "So who's hunting you?"

Barney started to fidget in the other chair. "I don't know. But whoever he is, he's unstoppable. Like a machine." He got up and started to pace like a caged animal, his head snapping this way and that as he spoke. "Been on my tail for a few states, ever since Phoenix. Pulled out all the stops to shake him, but he keeps on coming." The demon was working himself into a frenzy, pacing back and forth. Angel didn't think his carpet could take much more.

In an effort to stop Barney's pacing he asked, "What make you think he means you harm?"

"I don't think he's tracking me down to tell me that I've won the Publishers Clearing House. He's an assassin."

The whole description Barney had given seemed a bit vague for Angel. In fact it was missing one important detail. "Is he a demon?"

Barney shrugged. "Could be. He knows all the haunts and hangouts. It seems wherever I go he's just a step or two behind." He got a glint in his eye, the same sort that Doyle got before making a gross exaggeration. "You know it's a miracle that I've eluded him this long."

Angel decided that something was off with Barney. While Doyle might have acted in a similar way with the wheeling and dealing attitude Angel could see in Doyle's eyes the heart that was buried by all the dross that came with his life on the mean streets of L.A. But Barney was missing that streak of goodness. Angel was unsure as to whether, maybe, it was Barney that was in the wrong.

He studied the demon carefully. "Why you?"

The demon cocked his head forwards. "What do you mean?"

"What did you do?" clarified Angel.

The demon performed a little bobbing motion. "That's what I'm saying. I'm nothing, a nobody. I'm just a guy trying to get by in the world, no different from anyone else!" The demon still had that same expression Doyle used when exaggerating.

_What is this guy up to? wondered Angel. __Keep up the poker face, maybe he'll slip up. Out loud he decided to push slightly against the illusion that Barney was creating. "In my experience when one is being pursued that tenaciously, it's generally because the pursuer has a strong grievance against the pursued."_

The demon seemed like he was put a bit off balance by this comment, but quickly covered up. "Uh, hey man I never said I was a Boy Scout." He did that weird bobbing motion again. "I'm an empath demon. I can read emotions. It gives me a slight advantage at cards, you know, black jack, poker. Ooh, it's also good for the fights"

_Bait him, maybe he'll reveal something about his motives. "So you're a cheat."___

"I chose to think of it as going with my strengths." Angel raised an eyebrow. "Look, whatever. I'm a demon, I'm evil. But I'm not, you know _evil"_

Angel kept digging. "And you can't think of anyone who would have a beef with you?"

"No-one! But like my old man said, 'You can't please everybody'. So you gonna help me?"

Angel leant back and thought about it. Barney was obviously hiding something, but what? Some parts of his story rang true, other parts false. Angel decided the best thing to do would be to keep a close eye on him to see what was chasing him. And maybe whatever was hunting him would be more willing to give answers.

"Well?" pushed Barney.

"Okay, I'll help you. You can stay here until we…" There was a crash from downstairs. "Excuse me." Angel opened the door to the stairs and practically ran down them to see what had befallen the sleeping Doyle.

Doyle had tried to ignore it as long as he could, but enough was enough. The tap in the kitchen was dripping. Slowly. Rhythmically. Kind of like a poor man's Chinese water torture.

He cracked his eyes open. _Man that light is bright. He pushed himself up on his elbows. The room spun. __Okay this may take a while. He put a hand on the bedside table and used it to sit upright. The room still spun like a merry-go-round. He closed his eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath. When he opened his eyes again the room had stopped spinning. __Score one for me. He lent hard on the table as he stood up and once up he was afraid to let go in case he fell. He stood there for quite a while. __Okay either I move or the tap does. Hmmm, guess I better move. He stepped forwards and immediately lost his balance._

In his current state hitting the floor was enough of a shock to call out his demon half. Doyle gave up trying to fight it. Ever since he had woken up it had been trying to escape from the neat little box in his mind that he kept his demon form in. Now that it was out he felt better, less sore. It was true that the demon form could take damage better than the human one, but it still felt wrong. _And the spikes have made a mess of the bandages on my face. _

Doyle levered himself back up, and was pleased to find that the room no longer spun. He stumbled into the kitchen and switched off the tap. He then sat down on one of the chairs. Even in demon form he was still pretty weak. He rested his head on the table and dozed.

The floor rudely awakened him as he overbalanced the chair and fell to the ground again. He yelped. _If the Beacon won't kill me the repeated falls will. Angel came speeding down the stairs, summoned by the crashing._

"Doyle, are you alright?" He knelt behind Doyle and helped him sit up.

Doyle waved him away. "I'm fine man. Just dandy after being mugged by the floor twice." He slowly got up, leaning heavily on the chair for balance. "Really." He started to move away from the table, but thought better of it as the room started to spin again. He sat back heavily on the chair he had fallen off of.

"Are you sure you should be moving around?" Angel asked. He moved further into the kitchen and started to make some coffee.

"It's okay. As long as I don't do much I'll be alright." Doyle put a bandaged hand in front of his face. He carefully closed it and opened it, sucking air in sharply as the new skin pulled. He wriggled his fingers under the bandage, testing to see what happened. The result caused him to ask, "How bad was I?"

Angel turned to face him. "Pretty bad. The skin was almost gone from your face and your hands were completely raw. The doctor said he didn't know if you would pull through or not." Angel smiled at Doyle, a rare occurrence. "You know Cordelia has kept up a bedside vigil. She was worried about you."

"Maybe I can finally ask her out to dinner, as long as demons or the Powers that be don't decide to interrupt again." He continued to flex his hands slowly. The skin was starting to pull less. "She may accept me yet, even after the fiasco with Harry."

Angel came to the table and sat down. He slid the mug into Doyle's hands. Doyle attempted to pick up the mug, but could not find sufficient purchase on the ceramic surface with his bandaged hands. "Damn it." He looked at Angel. "Could we take these damn things off my hand?"

"Not yet," replied Angel. "The doctor said we should be careful, besides Cordelia gave you some painkillers before she left. You probably feel better than you should." He got up and returned with a straw.

"You're joking!" Angel stuck the straw into the mug of coffee. "You're not joking." Doyle regarded Angel's solution sceptically. "I'm reduced to drinking coffee through a straw. How low have I sunk?" He bent forwards and sipped through the straw. He winced, then straightened. Angel raised an eyebrow. "Too hot," explained Doyle. He and Angel sat in uncomfortable silence.

"So how much do you remember of last night?" asked Angel.

"Not a lot." Doyle studied the tabletop. "I remember punching you, for which I sincerely apologise by the way." He looked up to see Angel's reaction. 

"It's okay." Doyle smiled in relief. "But don't ever pull a stunt like that again. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Okay, no more heroics. Besides they hurt like hell." Angel didn't exactly smile, but the cloud of doom that seemed to hang around him lifted a little. "I remember hugging Cordelia," continued Doyle. "I remember jumping on that damn Beacon and pulling on the cables. I remember losing my demon form and still pulling, but after that…" Doyle shook his head. "Nothing until I woke up this morning with Cordelia." He took another sip of his coffee though his straw. 

Doyle started to cough and splutter as Angel watched.

"Doyle? What's wrong?" Angel moved to his side as Doyle continued to sputter. Eventually Doyle stopped. "Vision?" asked Angel.

"Yeah, weirdest one yet," replied Doyle. "I saw some grey sculpture in a metal case, but the weirdest thing is that it didn't hurt as much as it usually does. Not that I'm complaining." Doyle looked down at his coffee, red eyes clouded with thought. "What if I've atoned? Will they release me from all of this? Will some other poor bastard be drafted in my place?" He shook his head. "If you had told me six months ago that I could go free I would've, but now…" His eyes cleared. "Now I have you and Cordelia and I wouldn't leave for the world." He moved his hand to his face, and was shocked to find spikes. "I had forgotten about these." He smiled at Angel. "I suppose I look ridiculous. White bandages with blue spikes everywhere."

"Pretty much," agreed Angel.

"Hey", came Barney's voice. "Can I come down?"

Angel looked at Doyle. "He's a client. Don't mention the vision. Sketch the sculpture when you have a free moment."

"Got it." Doyle went back to his coffee.

"Come on down, Barney."

Barney came down the stairs and looked around. "I like it. As vampire lairs go, this is pretty nice." He walked over to the table where Angel had already produced another cup of coffee. "Who's the mummy?"

"Doyle." He glared at Barney. "I'd shake hands, but…" He lifted his bandaged hands.

"Hey, no problem." Barney sat down at the table. "So what happened to you? You a client?" He looked worried.

"Nah, I work for Angel. I just had a little run in with the Scourge, that's all."

Barney whistled. "If you are what I think you are, that was no little run in. Are you?"

"Am I what?" asked Doyle.

"Half and half." Barney seemed oblivious to Doyle's discomfort. Angel supposed that Doyle was upset that the only reason he was staying conscious was due to his demon half.

Doyle nodded slowly. "But I don't want to talk about anything. I almost didn't make it." He went back to drinking his coffee through a straw.

"Well friends, what shall we do to while the hours away?" Barney was grinning from ear to very pointed ear.

"Coo-ee," came Cordelia's voice from upstairs. Doyle, Angel and Barney looked up from their poker hands.

Doyle stood quickly. "I don't want her to see me like this."

"Like what?" asked Barney. Doyle didn't answer. He merely shook his head, causing himself to revert back to human. Cordelia came down the stairs.

"Oh my god. You shouldn't be standing." She moved towards Doyle.

He felt the bandages on his face falling, loosing the battle after being torn apart by spikes. He heard Cordelia gasp at his face. Then his world went black.

Angel moved forwards in one fluid movement to catch Doyle. The bandages had fallen from his face showing half-healed skin on the left-hand side of his face, the rest was healed. Something did have to be said for demon regenerating ability. Angel scooped him up and started for the bedroom.

"What's going on Angel? He shouldn't be able to sit up, let alone stand." Cordelia paced Angel to the bedroom. Angel laid Doyle down on the bed. He straightened up and turned to face Cordelia.

"It's demon half. It makes him stronger, increases his stamina, that sort of thing."

"But he wasn't a demon when I came in."

Angel sighed. "He changed because he didn't want you to see him like that."

Cordelia looked at Doyle. "He seems so peaceful when he sleeps." She moved into the bathroom and returned with fresh bandages. "I don't see why he worries. I…" she trailed off. "I can't say that I love him, but it could become love, you know? Anyway, I don't care if he's half demon, he's my friend." She sat down and started to bandage Doyle's face.

Angel leaned in close. "He had a vision." Cordelia's eyes widened. "Keep Barney occupied until I get back." He pulled on his leather duster. "And find a pen and paper for Doyle when he wakes up. He's got a mysterious sculpture to sketch."

"Where are you going?" asked Cordelia from the bed.

"To check out Barney's apartment. He thinks whatever is chasing him knows where he lives." He walked to the lift then turned. "And behave yourself. I don't want you and Doyle to be necking on the couch when I get back." He stepped into the lift and ascended to the ground floor.

"As if I'd end up kissing you," said Cordelia to Doyle's prone form. She continued to re-bandage his face.

Angel stepped out of the elevator and surveyed the dingy corridor. The flickering lights did nothing for the decor. Even Cordelia's first apartment was better than this. He sidled down the hallway towards Barney's door.

He jumped back as light spilled into the hallway from an open door, falling into a ready stance. The maid wheeled her cart out of the room and smiled at Angel. He relaxed and tried to smile back. If he didn't quite manage it she gave no outward sign, she just moved her trolley on down the hall.

The hunter fingered the crossbow. He should have known that the demon would have an accomplice. He moved silently up behind him.

Angel carefully opened the door, listening intently for any signs of attack from within.

It was a pity the attack came from behind.

A strong arm pushed him into the room. The hunter levelled a crossbow at Angel's heart and stepped into the lit room.

"Hello Angel." The speaker had an easily identifiable accent and an even more identifiable face. It was Wesley, the Watcher that had caused so much trouble in Sunnydale for Buffy, Angel and the rest of the Scooby gang.

Angel decided moving with a cross bow pointed at him was definitely against his best interests. "Wesley."

Wesley sneered slightly. "I'd wager you thought you'd never see me again."

Angel shrugged. "To tell you the truth I hadn't really given it much thought one way or the other." Angel started to pace. "What are you…"

"Hup up up!" Wesley twitched the bow to indicate that Angel should remain still. "I'm the one asking the questions here." Angel wondered how Wesley could sneer and speak with an English accent. "I think it is only fair to warn you, any sudden movement and I'll be forced to…" Angel had had enough of Wesley's smug attitude.He moved his hand up and round quickly, batting the crossbow out of Wesley's hands and into the corner of the room. "Right." Wesley's self confidence seemed to have left him along with the bow. "You had a question?"

Angel decided that Wesley needed taking down a peg or two after threatening him. He stalked around Wesley, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Interesting look for you. Motorcycle. The Watchers Council trying out a new image?"

Wesley gathered up the tattered shreds of his dignity. "In point of fact I no longer work for the Council." He tried to swagger into the room, but it looked more like a limp. He moved his leg up to stand rakishly posed with one leg on the bed while talking. "I came to the conclusion that I was of greater value to the cause working autonomously." His foot slipped off the end of the bed, ruining the image he had been striving for.

Angel spotted the true story immediately. "They fired you."

"Hardly." Wesley seemed intent with keeping up his charade until the end. "With Buffy unwilling to follow Council orders there was simply no opportunity to function as Watcher." Wesley puffed up his chest. "And that's why I became a rogue demon hunter."

Angel blinked a couple of times. Had he heard right? Wesley, the most hopeless individual Angel had ever met, was hunting demons by himself? How ever did he survive that long? "You're a demon hunter?"

Wesley glared at him. "_Rogue demon hunter. And I'm on the trail of a particularly nasty bugger right now so I suggest you stay out of my way."_

Angel smirked. "Easy Tiger. I think you might be making a mistake. If we're talking about the same demon here, he seems pretty harmless to me."

Wesley appeared to drop the dashing demon hunter act. "He's left a trail of corpses, human and demon, all mutilated."

"Mutilated?"

"Each of the victims possessed some unique power-telepathy, poison tongues, healing hands. Whatever the physical source of their power it was ripped, gouged, torn from their corpses."

Angel thought about this. "He's collecting powers."

Wesley nodded. "For what purpose I can only guess. The fiend has cut a swath across half the continent. I almost caught up with it in Phoenix. Got a pretty fair look too."

Angel decided to see if Barney was behind it all. He gave Wesley a short description of the ruddy complexioned demon.

Wesley shook his head. "Short? On the contrary, quite enormous and powerful." He moved to the dresser and leaned against it. "More of a yellow green. And it seems lately to be secreting some sort of viscous, yellow fluid."

Angel pointed at Wesley's shoulder. "Like that?" On the leather jacket a yellow blob started to run down Wesley's shoulder. Another joined it. Both the men looked up. Suspended on the ceiling was a demon. Both Wesley and Angel moved away as it dropped, Wesley going for his crossbow. Angel blocked the blow the demon aimed at his face and hit it with a roundhouse punch. The demon rocked backwards slightly, then shoved Angel away, into a wall. Wesley brought his crossbow up and loosed the bolt into the demon's chest. The demon howled and dived out through the small window. Angel and Wesley watched the demon stagger along the street.

"What now?" asked the ex-Watcher.

Doyle was sleeping again. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness all evening. In his hand he still held the pen with which he had been sketching the mysterious sculpture from his vision. The pad had fallen to the floor. Cordelia bent and picked it up, putting it on the table. She moved into the kitchen to fetch more water for Doyle.

"You worry about him, don't you?" Cordelia jumped. She had forgotten Barney was still lurking around somewhere in Angel's apartment. "I mean I can sense you're worried about something and it increases each time you look in there." Barney pointed into the bedroom.

"You 'sense'?" Cordelia was mystified.

Barney made that weird bobbing motion again. "I'm empathic. I feel your feelings when you feel them." He smiled. "It's a gift my kind is blessed with."

Cordelia was unimpressed. "Really. Well my kind thinks that some things are private. So maybe you shouldn't be nosing around other peoples feelings without asking them."

Barney looked shocked, then thoughtful. Finally he said, "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to make conversation."

He looked so miserable that Cordelia felt she was being a tad unfair. "Wait. Barney, I'm sorry. I'm just going through a difficult time right now. I'm just – umm…"

"Worried about Doyle," finished Barney. Cordelia nodded. "Why don't you tell me more about him?"

"Doyle?" Cordelia shrugged. "He drinks too much and his taste in clothes is like a Greek tragedy. But he can be really sweet sometimes." She sat on the sofa and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "This one time I was attacked by a vampire, and Doyle came out of the office all on his own, and he saved me. He was almost turned into paste by this vampire, but the first thing he asked me was 'Are you okay?' I mean he cares about me whether I did about him or not." She sighed. "And then his wife turns up and the whole thing with him and me goes kablooie."

Barney nodded sympathetically. "You must really care about them both. Doyle and Angel I mean."

Cordelia got up and went back into the bedroom. Barney followed.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing at Doyle's sketch.

Cordelia frowned. "Beats me."

It was then that Angel returned with Wesley in tow.

Cordelia came out the bedroom with Barney in tow. "Angel, you're back. How'd it go?" She noticed the dark silhouette behind him. "And who's your friend?"

"That's him!" Barney exclaimed. He started to edge away from the stairs.

Angel tried to explain. "Look Barney…"

But Barney would not listen. "That's the guy that's after me!" He took off towards the back exit.

"It's okay!" called out Angel. He started to move after Barney. "The books are through there, Wesley," he offered, motioning off to the side. He quickly moved after Barney out the door.

Wesley moved further into the room. "Good lord. Cordelia? Angel never mentioned… Well this is a nice surprise."

Cordelia blinked a few times. "Wesley? What are you doing here? Are you working for Angel?"

Wesley pulled himself back up to his full height. "A lone wolf such as myself never works with anyone. I am merely allowing Angel to assist me."

"Oh wow." Cordelia wasn't very impressed that Wesley was spinning that sort of tale. He had always been rather self-aggrandising back in Sunnydale, even more so when he was trying to impress her.

"I'm a rogue demon hunter now."

"Oh wow," said Cordelia, in exactly the same sort of voice as before. Then she decided to wind Wesley up a bit. In the same tone of voice she had used in high school to some of the jocks she had dated, she asked, "What's a rogue demon?" Wesley sighed and moved of to the bookshelves.

"So what you're telling me," said Barney, returning to the room, "is that all this time your friend wasn't hunting me, he was hunting something else that was hunting me?"

"That's about the size of it." Angel followed him in and moved towards where Wesley was searching through the demon guides.

"And it was after me because…" Barney moved his arms in a circular fashion.

"It wants to steal your empathic ability," supplied Angel.

Cordelia made an 'ewww' face. "The feeling feelings thing? What kind of demon would do that to another demon?"

"A Kungai." They all turned to see Wesley return holding a large book. "The description matches. It's of Asian origin, very deadly." He moved his head closer to the book and read directly from the page. "A powerful race of demons, the Kungai possesses a Tak horn, capable of consuming its opponents life force." Wesley looked back up again. "We're lucky to have escaped with our lives."

Barney turned to Angel. "Hey, I know these Kungais. They're… they're killers. They're relentless." He got a manic look in his eyes. "You gotta take this thing out before it finds me."

Angel put his hands on Barney's shoulders in an effort to calm the demon. " I'm working on it. I have to find it first." Angel reached over to take the book. Wesley released it reluctantly.

"Hang on," interjected Wesley. "It's of Asian origin." Angel raised his eyebrows in a _So? gesture. "Earlier today," elaborated Wesley, "I tracked it through an Asian district just north of here."_

"Koreatown," supplied Cordelia.

Wesley nodded. "It's very likely it's hiding there."

Angel closed the book with a thud. "Then that's where I start looking." He picked his coat off the hook.

"Don't you mean 'we'?" corrected Wesley.

"I work alone Wesley."

Wesley was outraged. "The hell you say. This demon is mine!" Angel ignored him and moved to the door. Wesley was forced to pivot to remain facing Angel. "Angel, I know how to track him. You're not going to catch him without me by your side."

Angel paused in the doorway. He then turned to Wesley. "I had someone by my side once. He's in there." He gestured into the bedroom. "If he wakes up you might want to ask him how he 'enjoyed' helping for his first time on a case. Maybe he found the near death experience enjoyable, but the recovery," he shook his head. "I won't let that happen again. I work _alone." He left up the stairs._

"Yes. Well." Wesley wilted and made to sit down, but thought better of it as his trousers pulled. "Ahh."

Cordelia looked worried. "Are you alright Wesley?"

"No, these pants, they tend to chafe ones…" He remembered Cordelia's presence. "Legs," he finished. "So what was Angel on about with this person by his side?"

Cordelia wrapped her arms around her middle. "Follow me." She led Wesley into the bedroom.

Wesley's eyes took on a sheen of pity as he saw Doyle, still completely covered in bandages, lying motionless on the bed. "Dear God. What happened to him?"

"I had a little run in with the light bulb from hell." Doyle carefully pushed himself up. Cordelia rushed over to his side to help him to sit upright. "It's okay Princess. I can manage."

"Shush. I'm helping you whether you like it or not." She looked at the pad on the nightstand. "Hey, you finished the outline."

"I finished the whole thing. That's all I got." He tilted his head back and sighed. "I really wish Angel could be the one lying here hurting instead of me."

Cordelia stroked his forehead. "Hey you're doing well for a man who had his face burnt off three days ago."

"Face burnt off?" swallowed Wesley.

"Occupational hazard friend." Doyle seemed to look at Wesley for the first time. "Who are you?"

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." He extended a hand, then though better of it.

"A limey." Doyle frowned in though. "Watcher?"

"Rogue demon hunter," corrected Wesley.

"Watcher," stated Doyle and Cordelia together.

"Well I should be going. Even if Angel doesn't want my help he's going to get it. And I am sorry about you and the 'light bulb from hell' whatever that was." Wesley turned and left the same way Angel did.

"Nice bloke." Doyle turned back to Cordelia. "Listen Cordelia, I never got to finish asking you out that night." Cordelia smiled at him. "Cordelia, would you consider going out with me for dinner one evening?"

"Of course. I said the whole demon thing didn't matter then and it still doesn't now." She lent forwards and kissed his bandaged forehead. "You still need your rest." She picked up the pad. "Sleep some more. I'll be the kitchen trying to make sense of this thing." She made a face at the drawing.

"But… but you saw my demon form. How could you still like me?"

"Later. For now…rest."

Cordelia sat on the sofa, squinting at the sketch.

"Hey, that's kinda nice. What is it?" Barney was back again, ever cheerful now Angel was on the trail of the Kungai.

"I don't know. I don't _know!" She tore off the page in frustration, screwed it up and threw it to the floor._

"You're frustrated," observed Barney.

"That's one spooky talent you've got there. You can just look at me grinding my teeth, sighing, grunting and _sense that I'm frustrated?" She sighed. "Amazing."_

"It's pretty good at sensing sarcasm too." He pirched on the edge of the kitchen table. "Can I help?"

"Not unless you can explain really vague images from visions."

"What do you mean visions?" asked Barney, his interest piqued.

Cordelia settled into a more comfortable position. "My friend, Doyle, he gets these brain flashes, messages from the PTB." Barney shook his head in confusion. "The Powers That Be." Both she and Barney sobered up with that pronouncement. Cordelia always forgot how scary that sounded. When she and Angel talked about it, they joked about it. Doyle was even more flippant. It was like the thought of what it really meant was too hideous to consider without some sort of emotional shield. She supposed it must be like nervous system rape. She realised she had stopped explaining to Barney. She forced herself to continue. "Visions of all sorts of stuff: people in trouble, things about to cause trouble, places trouble is happening in."

"So he's what, Angel's pager?" Cordelia nodded.

An uncomfortable silence filled the apartment, brought on by the serious nature of Cordelia's revelations. In an attempt to stop the silence Cordelia offered Barney some coffee.

"Sure, why not?" replied the demon.

Cordelia moved into the kitchen and filled the kettle from the tap. She fetched mugs and then bent to check in Angel's fridge. "I hope you like your coffee black because the only lightener the boss has in his refrigerator is O positive."

"Black is great." He watched Cordelia to make sure she was fully occupied with the coffee before moving to the back of the apartment. He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and punched a speed dial. "It's me," he said, _sotto voice, his entire demeanour changing__. "Of course I got the Kungai horn, it's in a safe place. But listen," he checked on Cordelia's progress. "I think I just found something even better." His gaze moved to the bedroom where Doyle lay sleeping. He switched the phone off, slipped it back into his pocket. He went back to his charming fool act. __But not for long, he thought._

A rattle from the kitchen brought his attention back to Cordelia. He smiled and walked back to the table.

Cordelia set two mugs on the table. "It's kinda strong and a little clumpy. Never could brew the old fashioned way, I'm more the auto-drip girl. " She shrugged. "Sorry."

"Yes you are." Barney put his hands in his pockets and paced, swaggering.

"What?" Cordelia was confused. Barney had never shown any of these habits before. He had always been quiet and polite and kind of simpering really.

"Sorry," he repeated, as if she was too slow to understand. "Pathetic really."

Cordelia was offended. "Well thanks for the insight, Mr Emotional-radar."

"How old are you?" asked Barney, jumping conversational tracks.

"That is none of your…"

"Twenty something?" interrupted Barney. "With your head all up in the clouds and your feet in…" he looked at her feet, "shoes you can't afford? All self absorbed, full of regret." He shook his head. "Poor you. Poor, poor you. Poor little Cordelia Chase with her delusions of an acting career."

"Delusions??!!" Cordelia was fuming.

"You don't possibly think you'll succeed, do you? You're a terrible actress."

Cordelia backed up as she whispered, "You have never seen me, how could you possibly know?" Her back hit the edge of the counter.

"Because you know." Barney advanced on her. "You feel it. You're entire being is whispering it to me right now." He stopped advancing and shrugged. "Me, on the other hand, you gotta admit I'm a pretty fine actor." He paused a moment to savour the fear rolling off her. "Fooled you!" Cordelia tried to make a break for it but Barney cut her off before she could reach the stairs. He decided to rub salt into the wound. "You don't like to hear the truth. No wonder your friend never told you about his demon half."

Cordelia pulled against Barney's hold on her arms. "You don't know anything about me or Doyle."

"I know you ignored him until he was forced to pull a crazy stunt like jumping to his doom to get your attention."

"That's not true," stated Cordelia flatly.

"No," agreed Barney. "But it feels true doesn't it? Mixed in with all the pain and worry, a healthy dollop of guilt. A nagging thought that maybe if some how you could have saved him from all this pain. If only you'd been nicer to him. If only you'd let your walls down sooner. If only for one freaking second you gave a damn about anyone besides yourself."

"Let me…" began Cordelia.

"Oh shut up!" snarled Barney, bringing his arm around to connect with the back of Cordelia's head. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets, and she dropped to the floor, limp.

Barney hoisted her up to the table and started to bind her hands together with some rope he had swiped from Angel's weapon chest earlier.

Angel found the steam was doing funny things to his nose. Although Soon had told him that the Kungai was in the back Angel could smell other demons around. He moved down the corridor, one hand on the axe in its special holster. He turned as his ears caught the scrape of a curtain being pulled back. A green demon appeared as Angel liberated the axe from its hiding place. "Do you know where they do the Shiatsu massage?" asked the demon. Angel turned and kept on walking, pulling up the curtain blocking off the back room.

Inside he found an old woman ministering to the Kungai. The woman spoke softly in Korean, explaining to Angel that the demon was dying. Angel moved through what he presumed to be an apothecary and spotted the bolt from Wesley's crossbow. He picked it up and examined it carefully. The demon reached over and pulled on Angel's arm. It spoke in some demon tongue rife with gutturals and clicks. "I'm sorry I don't know your language."

"I do." Wesley stepped from the darkness. Angel was surprised. A man in a white suit was hardly inconspicuous. "I wouldn't have thought the wound I gave him was fatal."

"It wasn't," replied Angel. "Look at his head. His Tak horn's been broken off."

Wesley leant over the demon and listened intently. "He said his horn was taken for the clu _click ka. I'm not familiar with that word." He bent back over the Kungai. "He says more will die."_

"How? Who's doing it?" asked Angel.

"No good losing patience. He's dying and I'm not exactly fluent." The demon talked on for a few more moments until it laid its head back with a final rattle. "He was trying to describe his killer. Demon heart reader."

Angel thought about this. "Empath demon." Then a load of pieces in his mind clicked. "Barney."

Doyle felt terrible. He was sure Cordelia must have forgotten to give him his painkillers, but that seemed unlikely given the fact that she had been doting on him all day. He cracked his eyes open. In front of him was the sculpture from his vision. _Oh shite. He moved his head slightly to see what else he could find. It wasn't very heartening. On a nearby table he could see things that should still be attached to bodies. He let his eyes drift closed as he heard footsteps coming into the room._

"That's too much trouble," said a mystery voice. "How about we just pop out the eyes, and we'll dump the body?"

"We get at least an extra thousand if the Seer's eyes are intact so drop it." Doyle recognised that voice. It was that creepy demon that had been hanging around the office. _First he takes my money at poker, now the bastard want's my eyes. He drifted back into unconsciousness as Barney continued. "Shouldn't you be cataloguing gypsy flesh?"_

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Angel came down the stairs to his apartment at a run. "Doyle? Cordelia?" A crash drew his attention to where Cordelia was bound and gagged. She had shoved hard enough to knock some china off a cabinet.

Wesley followed down the stairs. "This is all my fault."

"We both left them here. Neither of us knew." Angel succeeded in undoing the knot in Cordelia's gag.

"Oh Angel. It was horrible. He said all these mean things." Cordelia started to sob. Angel freed her hands, then wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. "He took Doyle, him and some other guy. They said something about the eyes of a Seer."

"Don't worry I won't let anything happen to him." Angel gave her one final squeeze, then got up and started to search the apartment. He glanced at Wesley. "This is me looking for clues. Feel free to join in any time you want."

"I'm a fool." Wesley sat on the sofa with his face in his hands. "The Council was right to sack me." He saw Cordelia and Angel's reaction. "Yes I was fired. I had two, _two Slayers in my care. One turns evil and now vegetates in a coma; the other is a renegade. Fire me? I'm surprised they didn't cut my head off." Angel bent to retrieve some paper off the floor. "I'm useless," continued Wesley. "A fool, a snivelling great…"_

"I know this," interrupted Angel. He straightened out the paper and showed it to Wesley and Cordelia. "It's 'Maiden with Urn' by Van Gieson." Wesley still looked blank. "Doyle saw this in a vision. It could be telling us where Barney took him."

"So we find the sculpture, we find Doyle. Right?" asked Cordelia hopefully.

Wesley nodded. "And then you two can go and rescue him."

"_We can go rescue him," corrected Angel. "I need your help Wesley. The Kungai said Barney wanted the horn for something."_

Wesley nodded. "The clu _click ka."_

"You're the only one in this room that can translate that. Are you with me?" Wesley nodded again. "Good."

_The marvels of this age, considered Angel, staring at the picture of the sculpture. __The Internet is a wonderful thing, all that information at the touch of a button. Out loud he said, "Van Gieson's 'Maiden with Urn' was sold to the Ramsey Hotel Chain in '82. There are twelve hotels between here and San Diego, it's got to be in one of them."_

"I'm on it." Cordelia took out the yellow pages and started to leaf through them.

Wesley sat on the edge of the desk with a thick book. "I keep running up against a translation for clu _click ka, which translates as Caller sale." He muttered to himself for a few moments. "Of course. I know what clu __click ka is. Auction."_

Barney was almost rubbing his hands together in glee. The room was full of prospective buyers. They were in for a treat. Hank wheeled in the next lot. Barney began his spiel in his role as auctioneer. "Next up, lot 32. We're very lucky to have this here today. It's a rare and beautiful find." Tied to the wheelchair was Doyle, barely conscious. Hank wheeled him up onto the stage. "The magnificent eyes of a Seer. Your very own line to the Powers That Be, folks. The possibilities are endless. Remove the head as a trophy or just harvest the eyes, in any case a unique party icebreaker. It doesn't get any better than this. Let's start the bidding at two thousand. Do I hear two thousand?" One of the bidders raised a paddle. "Ahh, two thousand. Do I hear two thousand and five?" Another paddle. "Two thousand and five, do I hear three?"

"Got it," called Cordelia from the phone. "Hotel Ramsey in L.A. recently redecorated. The Van Gieson used to be in the lobby."

"Eleven thousand it is. Eleven thousand going once, going twice…"

"Hey!" Doyle finally managed to wake up enough to find he wasn't walking out. That only left talking his ways out. "Hey, you know, cataract operations nowadays cost twice that. Is that all I'm worth?"

Barney grinned as another paddle was raised. "Twelve thousand.Do I hear thirteen?"

"You know these eyes see useful stuff. Er… Money. Treasure, yeah, they sometimes see buried treasure."

Barney watched as two of the bidders competed over and over to beat each other. Eventually one of the bidders knocked the other one senseless, halting the rising price. Barney was disappointed. He had hoped for at least another few thousand. "Twenty thousand from the gentleman in the centre isle, going once, twice…"

"Thirty Thousand." The speaker was a black woman with a mobile phone to her ear. Barney only knew of one client having a remote bidder here.

"Sold to the lovely lady from Wolfram and Hart."

Doyle was starting to panic. Not only had he been bought by Wolfram and Hart, but Angel was fast running out of time to come and rescue him. He was starting to feel better, but not well enough to make a break for it by himself. He was careful however to keep up the illusion that he was barely conscious so that Barney and his henchman, Hank, might slip up and give him a chance to escape. _Fat chance. __I'm tied to a wheel chair in a basement, I'm not getting out of here without help._

Barney walked in with the lawyer. "I'm sure your people will be happy with their purchase."

"We won't be needing the body," explained the lawyer. Doyle wasn't very pleased to hear that. It sounded much too final. "My employers have requested that the eyes be extracted."

Barney brought his hands up in a placating gesture. "Well an extraction is a very delicate process. We run the risk of damaging the gift. It's going to cost you an extra thou."

The lawyer put her hands on her hips. "Please!" she snorted. "Extraction is always included in the price."

Barney shook his head. "Not with seer's eyes."

"Never heard of such a thing."

Barney smiled. "That's because there's never been anything like this on the market." His eyes turned hard. "An extra thou, or you take as is."

She shrugged. "Go ahead."

_This is so not good, thought Doyle. He started to pull against the ropes tying his arms to the wheelchair._

"All righty then." Barney bounced over to Hank. "Give me the extractor."

Hank pulled it way like a child guarding a beloved toy. "But I want to do it. You know that. I've been begging you…"

Barney cut him off. "Hank! You're embarrassing yourself. Hand them over." Hank handed them over reluctantly. Doyle gave up any pretence of being unconscious and struggled with the ropes. "Ahh, you're awake." Barney loomed closer. "That'll make this much more interesting."

Angel ran through the double doors full tilt and into the hotel lobby. His head snapped round wildly looking for the sculpture. Wesley and Cordelia joined him moments later.

"I don't see it," said Cordelia. "They must've got rid of it somewhere."

Angel moved forwards to one of the hotel employees. "Convention halls?" The bellboy pointed down a flight of stairs to his right. Angel ran down them two at a time, Cordelia hot on his heels. At the bottom of the stairs Angel found another hotel employee. "We're late. Where's the auction?"

"I'm sorry, we don't have any auctions here." The employee was not a very good liar, he stuttered in his denial.

Angel didn't have time for games. He let his demon out, his features distorting into his game face. He grabbed the unfortunate mans lapels. "Where is it?"

The man was shaken by what was obviously a real vampire. "It's in the Tulip Room." He nodded at a door. "That way." Angel released him and left, with Wesley and Cordelia hurrying after him.

Inside, the room was empty. "The sculpture's not here," stated Angel.

"As usual, one step behind." Wesley sounded resigned.

A man in a blue blazer came out from behind a curtain. "Have you got a number?" Angel and Wesley exchanged glances. Angel lunged forwards and grabbed the man. He shoved the unfortunate man back through the curtain.

As he followed through he caught Barney saying to one of his henchmen, "Hank, stakes." Angel ducked as the first henchman ran at him, tossing the man over his shoulder. He blocked the punch from the second. The third and fourth succeeded in pinning his arms. The man Barney had called Hank lunged at Angel with a stake. Angel threw his legs up, kicking the stake out of Hank's hand. He used the momentum to flip over the men holding his arms. Wesley was busy with the first man, delivering blows to the man's face in a rhythmic fashion. Cordelia was grabbed by the second. She reached onto the table and smashed the glass jar her fingers closed around onto the back of the man's skull. He dropped, releasing her. She moved quickly to Doyle's side. "I sense a role reversal here," said Doyle.

"Shut up," rebuked Cordelia. She took a horn from the table and started to saw through the ropes tying Doyle to the chair. Wesley knocked out his opponent with a roundhouse punch, then moved to Doyle's side as Cordelia finished cutting the ropes. Together he and Cordelia helped Doyle to his feet and they hobbled towards the exit. They didn't get very far. Barney leapt out and struck Wesley. He fell, dragging Doyle and Cordelia down with him. Wesley lurched back onto his feet. 

"You! Hurt an innocent girl will you?" He straightened his glasses. "I'm going to thrash you within an inch of your life." He lunged at Barney. "And then I'm going to take that inch!" He pummelled the demon until Barney was knocked to the floor. Wesley straddled him and pounded Barney's head against the floor. Barney pushed Wesley's head back, forcing him to roll onto his back. Barney followed him over until Barney straddled Wesley. Barney's triumphant grin faded however as Cordelia thrust the horn she had used to free Doyle into his back.

"Feel this feeling creepo!" Barney gasped, then fell from Wesley onto his back. His eyes rolled back as his body turned black. Cordelia backed away as his body turned to dust. "Eeww."

Doyle carefully pushed himself off the floor. "A little help here would be nice." Angel moved to his side and helped him up. "Thanks man. I was worried you wouldn't find me in time."

Angel smiled. "I was lucky, I had a rogue demon hunter at my side."

"Hey, don't forget the dashing secretary." Cordelia took Doyle's other arm.

Doyle lay down on the couch, stretching out his body in a cat-like fashion. "I'm glad that's over."

Cordelia moved to the couch and tapped his legs, causing him to sit up to let her sit beside him. "You and me both. To think I trusted him, told him stuff, personal stuff…"

"Don't worry Cordelia, he had us all fooled." Angel hung his coat up on its hook.

Wesley walked in behind him. "I suppose it's only fitting that he was killed by the Tak horn he stole from the Kungai."

"Not that he didn't have it coming," commented Cordelia. "He was a horrible, evil monster."

Angel moved into the kitchen and lit the stove. "He did kill a lot of people."

"Viscously mutilated their corpses," agreed Wesley. He continued to pack the small bag he had brought over.

"Plus he was quite happy to sell me for twelve thousand dollars." Doyle wriggled his fingers inside the bandage mitt covering his hands. "How much longer till I get to see my fingers again?"

"The doctor told us to keep the bandages on for at least five days." Angel took a frying pan down from a shelf.

"Well I'll be off then Angel." Wesley moved into the kitchen. "Who knows when our paths will cross again."

Angel stuck his head out from behind the fridge door. "Wesley." He shook Wesley's hand, then went back to rooting through the fridge.

"Do you know where you're headed?" asked Cordelia.

Wesley walked towards her with a swagger in his step. "We rogue demon hunters rarely do. Wherever evil lurks, wherever the forces of darkness threaten humanity, that's where I'll be." Angel placed plates and cutlery on the table.

"I'll do that." Cordelia got up and began to lay the table. "Well, keep in touch Wesley."

"Yes. Yes I will." Wesley bent down and picked up his bag. "But now the evil lurking everywhere bids me onwards." He looked on with regret as Cordelia helped Doyle into a chair and placed a glass of orange juice in front of him. "So… I go."

"Take care," Cordelia called over her shoulder. She turned back and giggled as Doyle kept having the glass slip through his bandaged hands. Angel leaned over and stuck a straw in the glass.

"Oh not again." Doyle looked bitterly at the straw.

Wesley slowly drifted around the corner. He decided to try to drop a wider hint. "No rest for the wicked fighters. Through storm and rain…heat…famine…" Wesley decided to be unsubtle. "Deep, painful, gnawing hunger, I go."

Angel decided to take pity on the ex-Watcher. "Breakfast?"

"Ooh, I suppose so." Wesley jacket was off and he sat at the table like lightning.

Cordelia leaned over. "One of the perks of the job. After an all-nighter of fighting the lurking evil, we get eggs."

Angel laid a plate of scrambled eggs in front of each of them. "Toast?" he asked Wesley.

"Mmmm, please," nodded Wesley.

Cordelia speared some egg on a fork. "I'm famished." She stuck the implement into her mouth. "You know," she said around her mouthful of egg, "he's a good cook for someone on a liquid diet."

"Astonishing, really," agreed Wesley. He turned to Angel. "Did you say something about toast?"

Angel smiled and set the plate down on the table. Both Wesley and Cordelia lunged for the top piece, Cordelia being the victor. She turned to Doyle, and giggled again as she saw him holding the fork as if it was a shovel.

"Hey, I'd like to see you do better without fingers." He stuck the eggs defiantly into his mouth and chewed. He stared intently at the toast on the plate. "Can someone pass me a slice?"

"Get it yourself."

Doyle reached over and snared a slice with his fork. "These bandages have got to go, before I have to eat a hamburger with a fork."

Angel sat down with a mug of something Doyle's nose told him was blood. "They'll be off tomorrow." He leaned forwards and said in a stage whisper "Maybe you could get Cordelia to feed you."

"As if," huffed Cordelia.

Doyle leant back and smiled. It was good to be back.

   [1]: mailto:bu3@btinternet.com



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